à ne pas manquer
by quietgal
Summary: The rule is simple: "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." An expression unfitting for the beautiful and artful dance of ballet, but an expression that remains true nonetheless. Alfred and Arthur were inseparable - both in the eyes of their friends and in the eyes of the NYCB producers. They danced together for performances upon performances, pas de deux after pas de deux.
1. ensemble

Upon his arrival to the New York City Ballet, Arthur Kirkland quickly became the newest and hottest topic of discussion. Being widely discussed wasn't new for Arthur; it seemed to be a quality that followed him all his life, through a series of circumstances. However, it wasn't often that he was admired so obviously by those whom he himself admired. The NYCB felt almost like a club that he'd been dying to join for his whole life, and now all of the members were waiting for him at the door with open arms. Best of all, the first one waiting to welcome him was none other than Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred F. Jones was, in all likelihood, not a real person. It was simply impossible for someone like Alfred F. Jones to exist. He was a fantasy that Arthur had dreamt up. He was a complete American Alpha: blonde hair, blue eyes, rippling muscles. The kind of attractive man who you would innocently flirt with while he flipped burgers at the Independence Day Barbecue, but then later learn that he had definitely been spotted nearly naked in three Calvin Klein advertisements. And yet, while Alfred F. Jones _was_ the charming boy-next-door type, he wasn't a secret underwear model: he was a principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. And he was kind. Unrealistically kind. Stupidly kind. Arthur knew he was no match for a man like Alfred F. Jones. He had attempted to keep his distance, but Alfred had insisted upon introducing himself. Arthur could barely keep himself together.

"You're Arthur Kirkland!" Alfred had said, smiling brightly with those Hollywood white teeth. "Dude! I've heard so much about you! I can't wait to get to rehearsal. I've never partnered with a guy before, but I'm guessing you'll make it real easy."

Arthur had been momentarily stunned. "Well," he finally managed to choke out, "It should feel virtually the same as dancing with a woman. I-I've trained exactly how they have, that's... sort of my, erm, style of ballet."

Alfred was quickly moving his hands in flailing defensiveness. "Oh, dude, I know! I heard that you, uh, y'know, trained and did en pointe stuff with women for a lot of your life, it's - it's super cool, for sure. I just haven't met anyone who does that!"

A pause: Arthur stared blankly for a moment before blushing and responding. "I know it's a bit odd." No one had ever made Arthur feel so uncomfortable about a talent that he was literally world famous for.

"Nah, nah, dude, it's amazing!" Alfred had insisted. "You're amazing." Arthur was starting to feel faint with all the charm and charisma surrounding his senses. "I'm so psyched to be working with you."

And work together they did. Their first ballet: quite a contemporary version of _The Sleeping Beauty_. Arthur as Princess Aurora, and Alfred as Prince Désiré. Arthur supposed he wasn't thinking about what walking into a rehearsal space with Alfred would mean, because seeing the American in his dance belt and tight pants was somehow not what he was expecting. In fact, it caught him very off guard. Needless to say, had Arthur not been so professional, it would have been very hard to keep focused.

Their immediate rapport was unbelievable. It certainly did not go unnoticed how well they got along. For all their tiny arguments and disagreements (Arthur quickly made a habit of calling Alfred an "idiot"), everyone could see how much they liked each other. One didn't even have to watch the rehearsals: while simply watching them perform, their adoration and understanding of each other became obvious.

The rule is simple: "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." An expression unfitting for the beautiful and artful dance of ballet, but an expression that remains true nonetheless. Alfred and Arthur were inseparable, both in the eyes of their friends and in the eyes of the NYCB producers. They danced together for performances upon performances, pas de deux after pas de deux.

"Al, you should give me a massage," Arthur smirked. They were getting out of costume in their shared dressing room after one of their many performances.

"What? Why?" Alfred all but whined from his chair. "I totally had to carry you for so long, and I did weights yesterday so my arms were super sore. You should give _me_ a massage."

Arthur pouted. "My back hurts! Come on. I'll be very happy with you."

"Ugh," Alfred groaned, slouching over his desk. "That's not a good enough reward."

Arthur turned to look at him over his shoulder. "Well, if I were to become injured, you'd be out of a job."

Alfred scoffed, offended. "Uh, no! They'd just replace _you_!"

Arthur laughed, turning back to his mirror. "Please, you know you're nothing without me, love." He paused for a moment. That wasn't supposed to come out of his mouth. He quickly grabbed another (unnecessary) make-up wipe and proceeded to cover his face with it. He jumped when he felt calloused hands smoothing over his shoulders.

"You're probably right," an uncharacteristically soft voice murmured. Arthur blushed hotly, sparing a glance at Alfred through the mirror before looking away shyly. He couldn't resist a small smile.

"I'm always right, idiot."


	2. l'ouverture

Arthur was nervous. Today was the second rehearsal for _The_ _Sleeping Beauty,_ in which Arthur was starring alongside his onstage Prince, Alfred F. Jones - the impossibly beautiful man. The first rehearsal had went well. It had almost gone too well. Arthur knew he had to do everything in his power to make sure the second rehearsal went just as well.

He had reserved one of the smaller studios in the building for the hour before rehearsal started. He had to make sure he was sufficiently warmed up, as well as practice what he had already rehearsed to make sure it was even better this time. He took a deep breath, feeling his heart racing at the sheer thought of doing something wrong in front of all the people who had hired him. _Relax_ , he told himself as he was putting on his pointe shoes. _The worst thing you can do right now is panic._ And then the worst possible thing happened: he looked up and saw Alfred F. Jones, in the doorway of his reserved studio, staring at him.

Arthur was frozen, stiff, completely unsure what to say. After a moment of just staring at each other, Alfred finally spoke. "... What are you doing here?"

Arthur frowned. "I reserved the studio." Alfred's expression quickly mirrored Arthur's.

"What? You can do that?"

Confused, Arthur gave a slow nod. Hadn't Alfred worked at the NYCB for over a year?

"Really?" Alfred smirked a little, leaning on the wall. "I had no idea. So weird. Sorry for interrupting then, I guess. There's usually no one in here, so I jus' kinda use it to warm up and stuff..."

Arthur hesitated. He could take this moment or leave it. He needed to relax and do his best to get ready for the rehearsal, that was for sure. But judging by his reaction when Alfred simply looked at him, a moment alone with his co-star could reverse even an hour of warming up his body.

"You can warm up with me if you'd like," Arthur found himself saying, despite the cold ice that seemed to be invading his veins and the hot blush crawling up his face.

Alfred seemed surprised. "Oh, are you sure? You reserved the studio, and I know a lot of people like to do this stuff alone-"

"It's fine," Arthur snapped, not wanting to think too much about it for fear of regretting his decision. "Now come in, close the door."

Alfred smiled, doing so. "Alright. Thanks, Artie." Arthur grimaced.

"Call me that again, and you're out of here." Arthur turned back to his pointe shoes, continuing to tie them around his ankles.

"Aw!" Alfred pouted. "You don't like nicknames?"

"No," Arthur practically growled.

Alfred put his bag down next to Arthur, smiling. "Don't be lame. We just have to find the right one for you." Arthur rolled his eyes.

They soon got to stretching on the barre. Alfred gave Arthur his personal space, which Arthur was glad for. If Alfred had chosen to stretch alongside him, Arthur definitely would have been much more focused on those amazing thighs.

Arthur was soon finished with his barre warm up. He wanted to move on to stretching his back and practicing his arabesques. He'd experienced some previous minor back injuries and wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong today. About halfway through his back routine, he began to feel tension in his lower back. He nervously looked at Alfred: the American was still at the barre, looking a bit spacey as he leaned over his extended leg.

"A-Alfred?" Arthur asked his attention, anxiety clear in his voice. Alfred quickly looked to him.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you might help me with these back stretches. I-I've had back injuries before and I'm-"

"Oh, dude, totally! Don't worry about it!" Alfred easily lifted his leg off the barre and bounded towards Arthur. "What do you want me to do?"

Arthur hesitated before lying down with his stomach to the floor. "Would you mind pushing my leg towards me?" Arthur lifted his leg from the ground and quickly found Alfred's reassuring grip.

"Yeah, yeah, for sure." Alfred gently pushed Arthur's leg forward, further and further until Arthur audibly grimaced.

"All good?" Alfred asked, attempting to see Arthur's face.

"Yes, I'm fine," Arthur managed, his voice strained. "Let me change legs." He quickly switched legs and Alfred helped him stretch again.

"Tell me if anything hurts," Alfred murmured. Arthur nodded, biting his lip so to get through the stretch. After another moment, Arthur lifted his leg out of Alfred's grasp and quickly moved into child's pose.

"That should be okay, Alfred. Thank you."

Alfred sat at Arthur's side, all smiles. "No problem! Do you need help with anything else?"

"No, thanks." Arthur soon rose, eyeing Alfred cautiously. Alfred continued to stare at him, still smiling. "What? Do you need help with a stretch?"

Alfred laughed. "No, no! I just, I dunno. I thought we could talk."

"Talk?" Arthur echoed. "Well, I suppose. I should keep warming up, though."

"I can hold you, if you wanna do arabesques or something," Alfred quickly volunteered. "A-And if you wanna practice turns and stuff, we can do it like we learned last time."

"... Alright," Arthur agreed. "That sounds fine."

They stood. Alfred tentatively took Arthur's waist, which made both of their cheeks a little red. Arthur gently raised his leg into an arabesque en pointe and held it, wanting to stretch and test his back.

Alfred spoke first, after a moment. "So, you've always done ballet in, uh, a girl's style, right?"

Arthur sighed a little. "Yes. I grew up in a small town in England: there wasn't any class for male ballet dancers, and my teacher didn't care enough to single me out. When all of my classmates started en pointe, she just told me to do the same thing they were doing."

Alfred hummed. "She sounds like kind of a bitch."

Arthur managed a laugh, despite the slight pain in his back. "She was, but I suppose I wouldn't be here without her." Alfred nodded, understanding.

"Yeah, I totally feel you. My mom says she put me in ballet 'cause she loved it so much when she was a kid, but it was definitely because she thought I was annoying," he laughed. "She knew only a ballet teacher could get me to learn some manners. I totally hated all my teachers, but I'm where I am now because of all of them." Arthur smiled.

"Yes, it's an odd thing, isn't it?" He put his leg down from arabesque with a quiet groan. Alfred noticed.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm just sensitive, I suppose." He sighed, then repositioned his weight. "Shall we try the other way?" Alfred nodded, readjusting his hold on Arthur's waist so that he'd be comfortable.

"So why'd you start ballet?" Alfred asked, conversational but genuinely interested.

Arthur hesitated before answering. "I was the youngest of four brothers. I have another brother now, but I was the youngest for a long time. I suppose I wanted something to make me feel special, and I was rubbish at sports." He grimaced at a slight pain in his back. "Would you mind lifting my leg a bit higher?"

Alfred did, making sure he still had a good hold on Arthur's waist with his right hand. He gently pushed Arthur's leg higher into the air with his left. "Is this okay?" He asked quietly. Arthur nodded.

There was a moment of silence. Alfred bit his lip; he could never conduct himself well in silence. After another moment of helping Arthur stretch his back, an idea came into his head. Alfred smirked as he secured his grip around Arthur's right thigh.

"Do you trust me?" He murmured into Arthur's ear.

"What?" was all Arthur could manage before Alfred was lifting him and tilting him downwards. Arthur squeaked in surprise: his face blazed with blush when he heard Alfred laughing at him. Instinctively, he extended his arms and bent his previously standing leg. "Ugh! Alfred, put me down!"

"No, we have to practice for our pas de deux-"

"You _know_ that fish dive is much more complicated than this one! Come on, stand me up!" Arthur protested, attempting to stand from his awkward position. Alfred continued to laugh as he put Arthur down.

"You're so touchy, Artie."

"I'm not! And I told you not to call me that." Arthur huffed, straightening himself out.

"Oh, yeah. I guess I should pack my stuff, then," Alfred hummed, casually walking to the back of the room where his belongings were.

"What?" Arthur managed, watching him. "I thought you said we were going to practice turns as well."

Alfred looked back at him, a small smirk on my face. "Oh, well, I remembered that you were gonna kick me out if I called you Artie again, 'cause you hate when I call you cute nicknames so much. So I figured I'd just pack up in advance."

Arthur blushed, taking in a defensive breath before huffing and crossing his arms. "J-Just stay, we have to rehearse."

Alfred laughed, turning to face Arthur completely. "Oh, you want me to stay now?"

Arthur looked away, groaning. "Ugh, no! It's just that- well, if we don't rehearse, you're going to get fired because you're making me look bad. A-And what kind of dancer would I be if I let my co-star get fired? Not a very good one, certainly not."

Alfred chuckled as he came back to Arthur's side. "Yeah, _certainly_. C'mon, let's practice some more."


	3. pas un solo

The rehearsal progress had been long, but Alfred made it so easy. For all his obliviousness and stupidity, the boy understood ballet. More than that, he understood Arthur. Each step, each lift, each turn - they were in tandem with each other with barely any effort. It was the most fun Arthur had ever had while dancing with someone else, though he'd never admit it. Even better, it was no question that what came of that fun was absolutely beautiful.

Audiences loved it. _The Sleeping Beauty_ received standing ovations every night: they stood as soon as the ensemble dancers came out for their bows and stayed up until Alfred and Arthur themselves thanked the crowd. Arthur reveled in the audience's love and applause, night after night.

It was around the fourth week of performances. The performance had gone well, as always, and it was once again time for Arthur's bow. When he came out, he was met with the roaring applause he loved. He extended his arms as a thank you, smiling brightly as he took his bow.

As the curtain came down, he felt a smooth hand take his. He looked up to see Alfred, smiling kindly as he pressed a kiss to Arthur's fingers. Alfred approached before he could think to speak.

"You were great tonight, Arthur," Alfred murmured. As he walked away, Arthur stared. The deafening applause behind the curtain dulled his senses; he was suddenly feeling lightheaded. He pressed his hands to his cheeks, feeling the heat of a blush. He bit his lip, forcing himself to wonder if he had a fever.

The next day, he couldn't speak to Alfred. He had no idea what to say. He knew he was overreacting - a kiss on the hand meant nothing. In fact, it was choreographed into the ballet. Alfred kissed his hand every night. Alfred told him he was great all the time. Why was this time so different? Though they shared a dressing room, Arthur refused to speak. The awkward silence lingered until the house opened and the speakers came on. Arthur quickly made his exit, going to warm up before the ballet began.

There was a limit to how far he could distance himself. Whether or not he would admit it, Alfred had quickly become one of his best friends. As soon as he heard the music for Alfred's solo, he found himself walking to the wings as if in a trance. He watched Alfred's dance, clutching a curtain softly and laughing to himself. It was so odd to watch someone who was normally so bright and happy look so serious. Alfred was certainly not someone Arthur would peg as a ballet dancer had they met under different circumstances. He recalled that Alfred's mother had signed him up for classes. Smart woman to have kept him in it.

He barely noticed when Alfred's solo finished, and it seemed that Alfred was headed his way. He stepped back, briefly panicking: he had forgotten that Alfred's exit was stage right.

"Did you watch?" Alfred asked quietly, a little breathless. "Was it good?"

"I - yes," Arthur managed. "Of course, Al."

Alfred smiled. "I totally almost fell out of that double into the arabesque. You really didn't notice?"

Arthur fidgeted. "Well, you- I don't know. No, I suppose I didn't."

Alfred rolled his eyes, though he still smiled. "You weren't watching at all."

"I-I was!" Arthur blushed. "I just... got a little distracted."

"By what?" Alfred smirked. "The costume is pretty tight, isn't it?" Arthur just groaned, shoving Alfred lightly and calling him an idiot under his breath. Alfred laughed, in good spirits.

"Are you going back to the dressing room?" Alfred asked.

"No, I have an entrance soon," Arthur murmured.

Alfred nodded slowly, looking away as if trying to remember what the entrance was for. He eventually shrugged. "I'll stay with you."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "A-Are you sure? You don't have to."

"Yeah, it's fine," Alfred shrugged again. He fell into place next to Arthur. "I want to."

Arthur looked at him. When Alfred smiled, he couldn't resist smiling back. "Alright," Arthur agreed.

They watched the dancers on stage quietly for a while. No matter how many times Arthur watched the choreography, it never failed to take his breath away. But that feeling of astonishment was nothing compared to the feeling of Alfred taking his hand into his.

Arthur whipped his head to the side to look at his partner. Alfred gave an embarrassed smile.

"I-It's okay, right? I just wanted to," the usually loud and oblivious blonde whispered.

Arthur only managed a silent, stunned nod. His wide green eyes stared into nervous blues. Alfred squeezed his hand and Arthur couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Alfred smiled back at him. After a moment, Arthur took a deep breath, then leaned his head onto Alfred's shoulder. He felt Alfred tense up for a moment, but the tension soon left him. Arthur closed his eyes, listening to the orchestra. He shouldn't have let that tired feeling come over him before the show finished, but he felt so relaxed leaning against Alfred's shoulder like this.

"Alfred, I don't want to dance with anyone but you," Arthur found himself murmuring, somehow. Both hearts immediately began to pound harder.

"... I don't want to dance with anyone else either," Alfred quickly said after a moment of hesitation.

Arthur raised his head to look his partner in the eye. "Can you make sure, then?" He whispered nervously. "Can you make sure that we can dance together forever?"

Alfred stared for a brief moment, then nodded. "... Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that." They couldn't seem to do anything but gaze into each other's eyes for a moment. Alfred slowly leaned in and pressed a kiss to Arthur's forehead. When Alfred pulled away, he found Arthur still staring at him.

"What?" The American laughed.

"Nothing," Arthur murmured. He continued to stare into Alfred's eyes. "I think... you're very stupid."

Alfred laughed again, a little louder than he should've considering the ballet was ongoing. "What? Why?"

Arthur gave a small smile back. "You just are." He took one of Alfred's hands again. "But it's okay. I still like you."

Alfred chuckled. "Well, I'd hope so. You'd better like me if we're gonna be dancing together forever."

Arthur nodded, that small excited smile continuing to grow on his face. "Forever." He paused for a moment, then leaned in again. He pressed a soft kiss against Alfred's lips.

Alfred gasped a little through his nose, but managed to press back for a moment before Arthur pulled away.

"... I guess you do like me," Alfred murmured, starry-eyed and breathless.

"Mm," Arthur agreed, blushing and glowing with happiness. He looked down, only a little nervous. He wasn't sure how he'd gathered the courage to do all that, but he somehow wasn't regretting it yet. Maybe he was overtired or dehydrated. When he looked back up, he was met with a huge grin on Alfred's face.

"I like you that much, too," he quickly said. "P-Prob'ly more. Anyway, I gotta go, so I'll see you at the end of the act, a-and also for dinner tonight." Alfred was quickly rushing away, to Arthur's amazement and amusement.

It was by far Arthur's best performance. The audience cheered when Alfred kissed him again at the end of the ballet. Years later, they would go wild for the on-stage proposal.


End file.
